


No Regrets

by Nebelmeer



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Christmas Special, F/M, Regrets, Sad, WhatIfs, after canon, after season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 00:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13154871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebelmeer/pseuds/Nebelmeer
Summary: After S3"No regrets""No regrets""And yet... Every regret"





	1. Athos

_I am getting old_ , Athos thought, of all losses, time is the most irrecuperable for _it can never be redeemed._

He was getting old, the former Comte, the former Captain of the King's Musketeer's, was always feeling an increasing ache in his back, he couldn’t see or read well anymore, and he wasn’t capable of fighting. Every fibre of his being was _telling him_ that _his time had come and gone_ and yet there he was, in Paris, at the Garrison, between his brothers, between his men, as in those good old days.

Athos had returned for Christmas, he hadn’t the urge to do it for years, and after he and Sylvie had broken up, it didn’t seem _appropriate_ , and yet this time he had accepted D’Artagnan’s invitation. He was getting old, and he had felt a strange sense of _nostalgia_.

He had found out that looking at the new recruits, the young cadets and their enthusiasm could manage to full his heart with joy, and pride.

And it was fun.

And yet, at the same time the truth was that he was also full of _regrets_ , Athos deep down knew _he should never have been made Captain_. He was never a natural leader, he was never good at handling power. The weight of responsibility that had come with that title had crashed him, same as those that had come with the title of Comte had.

Duty has killed any possibility of happiness he had ever had, leaving only anger, resentment and regrets.

So many regrets.

What ifs had almost became the _essence_ of his days, what if I had chosen this _path_ , this _person_ , this _life_ , what if I some extra _seconds_ , extra _days_ , extra words would have made all the difference?

There was no way to find out, he had made his choices, he had had his chances. His time was almost over, he was far too aware of the fact that he had more past behind that future ahead of him.

Suddenly a voice called for him “ ** _Athos_**?”

He froze, _incapable_ of turning, of meeting those green eyes.  
He knew that voice, he _would have_ recognised in a hundred lives.

**_Anne_ **

So _she’s not dead_ , he acknowledged, she’s still here, even after everything.

Before he knew, his hands started shaking, but it was for the wine, _it had to be for the wine_. The wine, his oldest and sweetest friend, the one that drowned in misery and pain and rage and regrets with him. The one that never managed to keep her at bay.

**_Anne_ **

“Anne” he whispered in return, his voice so shocked, so soft, facing the most important ghost of his past.

Saying that she hadn’t haunted all his life would have been a lie, saying that he had moved on would have been a lie.

She had always been there, _in his head, in his memory_ , _in his heart_. He had been wondering, for _years_ , he had been wondering about her fate but never really wanted to find out. Imagining her happy, married and far away was so much more comfortable than looking out for truth. He never wanted to find out she had been miserable and alone, drown in her pain as he was in his.


	2. Anne

Anne, on her side, was aware of everything as well. She knew _she was getting old,_ she could feel it i _n her bones, in the heart._

And yet she was _still_ beautiful, she knew that too. Men _still_ looked at her when she walked past, _still_ wanting her.

Finding a lover had never been a difficult task, not even now that her face and her body were facing ageing. And yet, she had never found a true satisfaction, or peace, or happiness.

_She was a machine, a killing machine, no conscience, no feelings._

Maybe it is better like this, she constantly repeated to herself.

What had love brought her anyway? _Pain, chaos, ruin_ … It had changed her, of course, but he had been for the better? Knowing what happiness truly was only to be forced to abandon it was it any good? _No_.

She had survived, but saying that he hadn’t been on her mind would have been a lie. She had _wondered_ , more often than she was willing to admit, she had been wondering about him, and his perfect life with the perfect pregnant girl, _Sylvie_. In her eyes, Athos and that girl were always together, happy in each other's arms, surrounded by their children.

She had _hated_ the girl, for she had taken _everything_ Anne had ever wanted.

_Athos, children, a happy, peaceful life._

And yet a part of her had hoped that her memory would have been a difficult burden to carry in that relationship, a part of her liked to imagine their unhappiness.

But Anne had never wanted to find out.   
Every time they were expected to visit, Porthos informed her, bless that man, and every time they came, she disappeared.

Expect this one.

She had tried to resist, but it was almost Christmas, she was getting old and her once husband’s silhouette, standing after, after all that time had unlocked something in her. Her voice at escaped her mouth, betraying her and betraying her feelings.

" ** _Athos_**?"


	3. No Regrets

“You are _still_ alive” he exhaled, at last, hissing those words slowly.  
“An _acute observation_ , Athos” she replied bitterly “Do you have any regret at all?” the woman concluded before disappearing into the darkness.

Athos did not see her for days after that, he looked for her everywhere, but then he gave up, maybe it was for the best after all.

He gave up, but then suddenly his former wife appeared before him in his most predictable place, the tavern. She was still, her arms leaning right on the bar.

His mind commanded him to leave, but _his feet reached for her._

“I regret leaving the Musketeers” he hissed from behind “ _…and I regret what happened between us._ ” For some seconds there was silence, and it felt incredibly cold.

Anne stood there frozen, incapable of dealing with him and his words again, but eventually she turned meeting his eyes, a small tear appearing on her pale face “I made very bad choices” Athos concluded, “Forgive me, forgive all my weakness.”  
“ _I can’t_ ” her voice cracked “ _And I already have_.”

Once again there was silence, an embarrassing silence, then she broke it “No regrets.”  
“No regrets” he agreed, and she moved back in return, clearly trying to free herself from that absurd situation but he stopped her, finding grip on her elbow “And yet…” his voice trembled as his hands were reaching for her face “ _Every regret_ ” he exhaled before putting his lips on hers. The kiss was strange, their lips pressed against each other, their tongue searching for one another and yet it seemed a goodbye.

It was a goodbye.

“Anne…” he called for her, pleading for her “When did it happen?”  
_“What?”_  
“When was it the moment when we…” he hesitated, not wanting to say those words aloud. He was being unclear, she might not have understood, except she did “It doesn’t matter, _Oliver_ ” she replied, before turning and leaving him all over again.

“What’s wrong with you this night?” D’Artagnan asked him several hours later, passing him some good red wine, something that usually helped him.  
“Nothing”  
“Something is wrong with Sylvie? Your sons?”  
“No”

And his tone had been so resolute that the Gascon dropped the topic for the rest of the night.

The Gascon did, but his once best friend Porthos didn’t, and sometime later he came to him “Have you seen her?”  
“Yes,” Athos hissed “She looks so tired. And _unhappy_ ”  
“She’s a grown-up, she made her own choices.”  
“It’s on me.” Athos remarked, “The _misery_ her life has become is on me.”  
“Does it really matter now?”  
“She says the same”  
“ _We have more past behind than future ahead, Athos._ ” his friend warned him “We can’t afford ourselves to keep on living in the past.”  
“The past is never dead.”  
“Athos…”  
“I did this. I made her what she is, even now…” Athos made a small pause, feeling suddenly the weight of all those years, all those bad decisions, all that hate, all those fights, all that past that was gone and was now irredeemable “I look at her and all I can see now is who she could have been if I hadn’t…” **_killed her_** , the words came to his mind but did not escape his mouth “I asked her when it was the moment, the moment when it was really over, the point of no-coming back between us”  
“And what did she say?”  
“That it didn’t matter” Athos replied, a slight disappointment in his voice “I…”  
“And what do you think?”

For some seconds there was an absolute silence.

Then the snow slowly started to fall, and something changed.

“It was when she left too early.” Athos acknowledged “At the crossroads. It was the moment that changed everything.”  
“It’s pointless to have regrets now.”  
“Yeah…” he said with a nod before disappearing into his room, it was Christmas’s Eve, and he had never felt more lonely in his entire life.

_His family was broken, his once-wife was broken, he was broken._

_He had managed to destroy everyone who had ever cared about him, leaving only resentment and bitterness behind,_ he drunk again, drawing himself in self-pity. Before falling asleep, the last thing Athos remembered that was that he swore, cursing his fate, wishing that he would have come back to that time when he still had chances, the moment when he might have fixed his life, a moment in which he could have fought for Anne.

**_But it was too late._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "No regrets" part is a clear reference to Ragnar/Lagertha dialogue in 4x11, Vikings


	4. Crossroads

When he woke up something felt _strange_. His usuals pains and aches were gone, and he was feeling… _better_ , _younger_. And he had just woken up in the middle of.. the crossroads.

_With Anne’s glove, Anne’s glove in his hands._

**_No_ **  
**_This can’t be real_ **

It was a dream, it had to be a _dream_ , and yet it felt so _real_. He was holding her _glove_ , _Anne’s_ … he was still in time to go to her, to… talk to her, to fix things, he knew where she was going, after all, _he knew_ _everything_.

And Roger was next to him, looking at him with a strange gaze.

_I can go to her, I can go to Le Harve._

Before he knew it, Athos was riding across the country, only one thought in his mind, _getting her back…_

When he saw her silhouette, Athos lost a beat. She was _there_ ; she was _real_.

He took a couple of steps in her direction, unsure on how to approach her, unsure on which words would have been the right ones to be used.

“I would like to come to London, but I haven’t bought the ticket.”

Time stopped around them, Anne turned, a light in her green eyes “ _I have_ ” she whispered, a tear falling on her cheek.  
“How did you know? How…”  
“Because I love you” that truth escaped her mouth before she had any time to defend her dignity “And I still had to hope that…”  
“Thank you” he replied, pulling her closer, leaving kisses on her forehead “And I love you too. This Christmas miracle is absurd, but I’m so grateful you are here, and you are real, and I love you, I love you! I should have said it sooner.”  
“Don’t play with me, Athos.” she said forcing a smile “It’s not Christmas, and I have heard about the war.”  
“I was named Captain” he replied as an automatism “Treville is Minister of War, now.”  
“I understand.”  
_“I renounced everything”_ Athos whispered, caressing his wife’s face “Anne…”  
“You didn't have to. You don’t have to” she said shaking her head, finding a shelter in his shoulder.  
“Neither do you, my love. _It’s your turn now_.”  
“What?”  
“You must know it’s impossible to leave, for now, they stopped…”  
“I know” she interrupted him ”I might have overheard something” then Anne smiled, with a genuine smile that he hadn’t seen in ages.

In a moment Anne leaned into him, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, crushing her lips to his in a hard, needy, passionate, desperate kiss. Athos immediately deepened the kiss, and she opened her mount to let her in.

_He was alive._  
_He was home._

“Let’s take a room. We can think about everything later” Anne whispered separating from him.

_If this were a dream, he would have killed whoever would have dared to wake him up._


End file.
